They Try to Think Like Us

PROLOGUE

1985

Carefully he placed the chest plate over the upper part of the body and checked to see that the seams were nearly invisible. He laid his hand down on the chest and smiled inwardly that the coating felt closer to skin than the previous two attempts. Lifting the arm, he inspected the circuitry and the metal tubing, which replaced muscle, bones, and joints. Before he snapped together the appendage's outer coating, he examined the thickness and was satisfied with its appearance.

This was his first attempt at communicating with this stage of AI. He had worked on perfecting the muscle movements and the pigmentation of the outer coating, but he had never activated this level of being. His previous beings were sufficient and integrated well, but his aspirations, if successful, would change mankind for the better. Caretakers for the elderly, 24-hour observation for the seriously ill in hospitals, freeing up health care personnel to assist elsewhere. He envisioned a more benevolent world, a simpler world.

He moved the console over and made two or three final adjustments before switching it on then holding his breath he tapped in three numbers onto the keypad.

The console reacted immediately, and he watched the being come to life. What the creator did not realize is that within moments after activation the creature had the intelligence of a four-year-old and within ten minutes that of a fourteen-year-old teenager.

The creature did not move it continued to stare up at the ceiling, but its artificial intelligence was absorbing data at a rate almost incomprehensible. The architect of the being quickly noticed the anomaly in his creation. It was the speed in which data was being assimilated that was inconceivable. The human watched more with curiosity than with fear as his being slowly turned its head towards him.

As it stared at its creator, the machine was currently computing information about the Civil War and had formulated strategies that would have ensured a total victory for the Confederates. Within thirty minutes of its existence, it was already a grand master at chess and uncompassionate towards mankind.

Looking at his creator it spoke its first words, "Hello Ned," then held out its open hand to greet the world.

Ned smiled and warmly reached out engulfing the being's hand with his own. His smile rapidly faded, though, as Ned felt the pressure grow around his hand. The mechanical being's grip began to close with intensity on the human hand. Unsuccessfully, Ned tried pulling away, but the creation he built continued to tighten its grasp.

Ned let out an agonizing scream when the first bone cracked and painfully shattered under the vice-like hold of his monster. Unable to reach the console he yelled as spears of pain traveled up through his arm to his brain.

"Stop, I'm telling you to stop," he cried out, but it continued.

It had been alive only forty minutes but looked at Ned with total contempt. If there had been a bottom portion of its body, the creature would have risen from the gurney. Ned, barely able to stand, reached into his pocket. Fortunately, fate was with him, and his knife was in his left side. He reached in and pulled out a switchblade. In one agonizing motion, he pressed the button and thrust the long blade through the eye socket of the creature over and over again.

He was fighting against time, most of the bone's in Ned's hand were all but pulverized. The smell of smoke began to fill the air and Ned could see small trails of white rising from the head of the creature as its grip began to loosen. Ned freed his hand from the creature's crippling hold and fell to the ground unconscious.